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James Whitcomb Riley - By Her White Bed
Work rating: Low

By her white bed I muse a little space:
  She fell asleep--not very long ago,--
  And yet the grass was here and not the snow--
  The leaf, the bud, the blossom, and--her face!--
  Midsummer`s heaven above us, and the grace
  Of Lovers own day, from dawn to afterglow;
  The fireflies` glimmering, and the sweet and low
  Plaint of the whip-poor-wills, and every place
  In thicker twilight for the roses` scent.
  Then _night_.--She slept--in such tranquility,
  I walk atiptoe still, nor _dare_ to weep,
  Feeling, in all this hush, she rests content--
  That though God stood to wake her for me, she
  Would mutely plead: "Nay, Lord!  Let _him_ so sleep."
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